


Heroes Are Made

by periwinklepromise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Background Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting (mentioned), Mild Language, Post-Avengers (2012), Time Travel, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trans Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periwinklepromise/pseuds/periwinklepromise
Summary: “Team,” Tony announces in his usual, grandiose manner, “May I introduce you to myself?”
Relationships: Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Comments: 5
Kudos: 196
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	Heroes Are Made

**Author's Note:**

> This story has a pre-transition Tony from the past appear in the future. There is no transphobia depicted, but it is heavily implied that Howard Stark is transphobic.
> 
> No negativity in the comments, please!
> 
> This is a fill for Tony Stark Bingo!  
> For the TSB mods  
>  **Name of Piece** : Heroes Are Made  
>  **Name of Participant** : periwinklepromise  
>  **Card Number** : 3067  
>  **Square Number and Prompt** : A5: Resolve  
>  **Rating** : Teen  
>  **Pairing** : None  
>  **Warnings** : None  
>  **Summary** : “Team,” Tony announces in his usual, grandiose manner, “May I introduce you to myself?”

“Um,” Barton says from his perch in the corner. “Guys?”

The rest of the team turns to face him, but they do not have to ask for elaboration. The stranger standing in their common room is answer enough.

_Normally, portals make more noise,_ is the first thought ringing through Tony's head, a testament to how odd his life has become. The second thought is, _Oh, fuck_.

The intruder is young, maybe sixteen, with long brown hair and wearing a dress that went out of style almost thirty years ago, not that any of the others would understand why that fact is significant. The intruder is not a stranger, not to Tony.

Steve steps forward, and Tony alone knows the exact meaning of those brown eyes growing wide.

“Hello, Miss.” Tony bites his tongue at that. _Why don't you just tip your damn hat, Rogers,_ he wants to spit. “My name is Steve Rogers. What's yours?”

The brown eyes have already grown suspicious, squinting at Steve like this is all an illusion. “Edith Carbonell.”

Tony snorts and retorts, “Sure you are, kid.” His teammates are glaring at him before he can think to hold it back. Natasha is already making connections, calculating.

“Who are you?” The demand is thrown with little regard, which is honestly to be expected.

He thought he'd moved past these moments, but here it is again, and this is the most important iteration of all. “My name is Anthony Stark,” he drawls, “And I am the first and only Iron Man. You may call me Tony.”

The teen's lips move to form the words. Anthony. Iron _Man_. There are tears in those eyes now, and he feels matching tears spring up in his own. It has been decades since he has seen this face.

“Not Edward?” This question is hesitant. Hopeful.

“Edward is my middle name,” he confirms with a smile. _Eddie_. He wanted to be called Eddie, at that age. Then he steps back and spreads his arms. “Team,” Tony announces in his usual, grandiose manner, “May I introduce you to myself?”

“Yourself?” exclaims Steve, but the rest remain silent. Bruce always keeps to himself, and the spies are too careful to admit surprise. Thor, well, no one knows how to predict Thor's behavior.

“And may I introduce the team to _you_. The year is 2012, aliens are real, and so far, they are not our biggest fans. We are known as the Avengers, handpicked by Aunt Peggy's agency for our special abilities and commitment to protecting Earth.” Tony turns them both to face Clint. “Clint here is always trying to convince us he's indispensable because he isn't convinced of his inherent value as a human being. He's Hawkeye.” He points to Natasha, whose eyes are shining. “Natasha is worth getting to know for who she actually is, not just who she pretends to be. Black Widow is the only woman on the team, for now, at least.”

His younger self seems wary, so he continues.

“Then we have Bruce, who is far more than the sum of his parts, and Thor, actual god of thunder, who you have to keep an eye on, because he's way too willing to cover up his pain with a big smile. And of course, Steve-”

“Howard finally finds him?”

Tony freezes for a moment. He doesn't have enough information about what they're dealing with. Is this actually his past self, and is there an issue of future knowledge? Or is this an alternate Earth's current timeline? “No,” he decides to admit. He's not going to lie to himself; especially at this age, he'd hated lies. “He doesn't.”

The teen scrutinizes Steve. “Is he anything like what they say?”

Tony chuckles. He resented Steve when they met, but he could admit the man is far greater than the books give him credit. Worthy of all the admiration and affection Howard bestowed upon his memory instead of say, his own child. Who could have used some positive attention. “He's better.”

“You didn't tell … yourself about the Hulk,” Bruce stumbles.

“Nope.” It wasn't important. Bruce is still convinced the Hulk makes him a monster, and he doesn't need any more eyes looking at him in fear. It was easy to omit.

They work side by side for almost a minute before Bruce says, “Thanks.”

“No problem, Big Green.”

He introduces himself to Jarvis, and almost feels bad for the way the tears well up. The AI's existence is proof enough of Jarvis's death, and it … it was a wound that had not healed until the AI had been created, and even now, there are nights when Tony does not feel whole without him, the only adult to treat him with kindness. On those nights, he works in his lab until dawn.

Jarvis, to his credit, reacts to the situation with his characteristic aplomb, and his younger self is thrilled to discover Jarvis calls them “Sir” and “Young Sir.”

Bruce is investigating possible scientific explanations for the sudden appearance, but everyone is banking on Thor coming through with magical contacts. Tony is not happy to accept it, but it is looking more and more like magic might exist.

He still thinks science is superior.

His younger self agrees, tinkering with all the new tech like a fish takes to water.

“Have you made Dum-E yet?” he asks. They haven't discussed exact dates – when the portal was created, how young he is.

The snort echoes through the lab. “We actually call it that?”

Dum-E rolls up at the sound of its name and beeps. Seeing both iterations of Tony at the same time has been confusing for Dum-E, but its joys is apparent. It might break Dum-E's nonexistent heart when they go back down to just one.

Tony taps at its little claw. “The best bot I ever made. Jarvis, the armor, the reactor, none of this would have been possible without Dum-E.”

And it's true. Dum-E was the beginning of it all.

“It's not done yet,” the teen admits, tapping at it the same way experimentally. “I'm having troubles integrating the AI to recognize voice commands.”

Tony nods; he remembers. “You'll get there.” When he looks over, the smile greeting him is bigger than he ever gives now. _Yeah_ , he thinks, _we'll get there_.

“Clint is incorrigible,” Natasha announces on a rare moment where Tony is alone.

“Did you try turning him off and then back on?” He's been refraining from making anything resembling a sex joke around himself, because that is approximately the ninth grossest thing he can think of in this moment. He should get double points for making a sex joke that's also an IT joke. He should tell Jarvis he should get double points.

… It is possible he is sleep-deprived.

“He insists you introduced him poorly.”

“Would he have preferred to be called the C-Man? Get it, Hawk _eye_ , Clint with a _C_ , he's the _C-Man_?”

Natasha looks vaguely like she wants to strangle him.

… Yeah, he's definitely sleep-deprived. He should go to bed. “Sorry,” he says, scrubbing roughly at his eyes. “Is there, uh, a problem I can help you with? Hopefully a quick one?”

“Clint does not believe he has inherent value on this team. He believes you were mocking him by introducing him in this way.”

Fuck, that is not a quick one. “I meant every word completely genuinely. I'll let him know. Uh, tomorrow.”

“That is satisfactory, thank you.” She starts to walk away, but Tony stumbles after her. She is polite enough to wait patiently.

“Hey. I meant what I said about you, too. You two are important ... to the team,” he tacks on, a little awkwardly. He used to be suave, when did he lose his suave?

But she looks like she probably believes him, and that's worth looking like an ass.

He has to convince his younger self to stay in the Tower when the team gets the call to assemble. They haven't actually disproven the possibility that this is his actual past up and walking around, and if anything happened to his past self, well … the New York skyline would certainly look different.

But it turns out alright. They fight … almost smoothly, not quite as well as Natasha and Clint can do on their own, but they are starting to learn each other's biases. Hulk refuses to smash animals. Thor favors his right, but Steve likes to feint left. Steve is starting to trust Tony's analyses, and Clint is starting to trust that Thor will get there in time to catch him and doesn't need to waste his grappling arrows every chance he gets.

It's possible Clint just likes using the grappling arrows. He has Jarvis note that they should manufacture some more, just in case.

So the battle wraps up, Steve stays behind to wait for damage control with the Spy Kids, and Tony gives Brucie a ride back to the Tower for a snack and a nap, probably not in that order.

Thor joins him on the party deck. He said he was going to head off to his little Bifrost loading zone right after the fight to keep working on a portal … reversal, or whatever. Magic. Ugh.

So Tony is mildly surprised to see him. “Thought you'd be somewhere over the rainbow by now.”

“I will leave for Asgard soon enough.”

Tony has gone through enough of these now that he knows what this is about. Maybe honestly is not the best policy. “But first?” he prompts.

“You said I hid behind smiles,” Thor starts, and it is the most hesitant Tony has ever seen him. “As do you, Man of Iron. We stand with worlds on our shoulders, it is true, but we do not stand alone.”

Tony flicks a smile before patting his shoulder. With his armor still on, he doesn't even bounce off of Thor's stupidly massive shoulders. “No, we don't.”

He is with himself in the lab when they get the news – Thor's mother knows someone who can send Tony's tiny self back to the past. They don't know if these memories will remain; he finds himself hoping they will.

He does not want to forget this. The way he felt like a dream come true.

They both try to return to their work – past Tony reading up on arc reactor technology while he digs through a few thousand lines of code trying to find the bug that's ruining this iteration of a Stark Phone update.

There has been relative silence for ages – he took to loud music as an adult, so the lab has been quiet for the last week – when the question comes. “What's Steve like?”

“You can tell why Howard called him the only good thing he ever made. The guy could've walked right out of a cartoon.” He splays his hands along his work bench. “I know it's probably not what you want to hear, because I remember how much I hated Steve when I was your age. Sometimes I still do. But that's not really on Steve, that's on Howard.”

They go back to their work for several minutes, but Tony can tell the teen is working up to something. A more pressing question than Captain America back in the world.

“How does Howard take it? The truth about us.”

He sighs heavily, leaning back and stretching out all the little tensions that pile up with age. “He doesn't,” he confesses. “I never told. I transitioned the second he died, and I never looked back.”

“When does he die?”

He scoffs. “I'm not telling you that.” Some things do not need to be told. Some things are too much to be known. When his parents die, when Jarvis dies. The Chitauri legion. The pain of Pepper's hand in his chest cavity.

Silence falls.

“What does it feel like?” Had he really looked so timid as a teenager? He doesn't remember himself that way, but that's how his younger self looks. Timid, with a low thrum of hope.

“Being a man or being free from Howard?”

“Both.”

He smiles as if he can feel the sun on his face, warm air on his bare chest, the good sore of muscles being exerted as they deserve. “It feels like flying.”

His past self is in that hideously uncomfortable dress to be sent back to the proper time. The Asgardian helping them does not elect to explain what will happen exactly, and Tony knows he's not in any position to be talking shit, so he mostly chatters about anything he can think of, biophysics and information anomalies and that time Steve and Thor tried to teach each other how to cook and set off three floors' smoke alarms …

Until he's interrupted by himself.

“Tony. _Tony_. I'll be fine.”

“I. I never said you wouldn't be,” he defends ineptly, before he is swallowed up by a hug the teen must have _just_ learned how to do from Rhodey, because it's still a little too tight, but this one time, too tight does not mean bad, is not too clingy.

“I will be fine,” the teen insists into his shoulder. “I've seen it.”

He chuckles then, and if it sounds wet, well, the team must be imagining it. “Yeah, you have, kid,” he says, pressing a kiss onto too-long hair before releasing.

The Asgardian must realize this is the final goodbye, because she calls forth some sort of technicolor vortex and waves at them.

He wants to roll his eyes, but something about his past physically walking away from him twists his heart. “You'll change the world,” he calls, almost desperately relieved when the teen pauses just before the portal, to look back at him and give him the smirk he practiced for every camera that would get shoved in his face.

“And don't you forget it.”


End file.
